#He recalls the Twilight Town kids and how nice they seemed. So he brings the puppet to their usual spot.

[lightandfellowship]

Tags by user elliestoybox:

#I WISH #im kinda mad about that actually #kingdom hearts #like thatd be SO fucked up like emotionally #not to say that what we have isnt but like #roxas having to not only he like #'why cant i remember who this is?' #but also 'why am i holding a coated blanck puppet?' before moving on #leaving it laying in twilight town or whatever #thatd probably keep me up at night if it happened when i first watched it

speaking of replicas, can you imagine if xion's death had ended with her blank body being left behind in roxas's arms

[aquafolia]

Sokai Day Fic 1: True Love’s Kiss(es)

So yes, I am a Classics/ancient history blog, and this is obviously super different from the content I normally post on this blog. Please forgive me, but I’ve recently become OBSESSED with Kingdom Hearts and I have nowhere else to post this stuff at the moment. So please forgive me, normal content will resume soon!

Anyway, as I said I just started playing the KH games for the first time this summer and it’s been so much fun. And seeing all the amazing stories and artwork in this fandom has inspired me to write some stuff too. Anyway, I’m Holly, and I hope y’all enjoy :)

--------------------------

True Love’s Kiss(es)

‘Ugh!’ Kairi groaned, unceremoniously setting down the basket she held in her hands. ‘I forgot that when you pick apples, you have to actually carry them all back, too!’

‘Your basket’s not even half full, Kairi,’ Sora remarked, ‘and we’ve only just started!’

She grinned. ‘Well then, it’s a good thing I have a strong, manly boyfriend to help me carry all of these.’

He could hardly argue with that. Sora feigned displeasure by rolling his eyes and letting out a dramatic groan, which made Kairi giggle. But then he walked over to her, grabbing one of the basket’s handles as she grabbed the other, and the pair made their way deeper down the rows of apple trees. They could hear the distant shouts and laughs of their friends echoing through the orchard as they went. Apparently, Twilight Town– a world basically in perpetual autumn–  was known for its fall festivities, including its legendary apple orchards. Once they’d visited the orchards, the gang hoped Remi would help them make apple pies, apple cider, and all sorts of goodies during their visit. To that end, the group had decided to break up into teams in order to pick as many apples as they could carry. Today, Sora and Kairi were paired up. But Sora knew that if they only returned with a measly half basket of apples, the others would surely tease them, accuse them of slacking off.

They wouldn’t be totally wrong, Sora thought with a grin. Sure, Kairi was determined to focus on their task: she was deep in concentration, examining each apple carefully before deciding to place it in her basket. Sora, on the other hand, was much more determined to get Kairi off task. It wasn’t that Sora didn’t want to help out, but this was an opportunity for him and Kairi to spend some time alone– that was a temptation greater than any fruit, in Sora’s world.

Kairi set her sights on a shiny red apple that hung high on a nearby tree. She stood up on her tiptoes, making adorable little noises as she tried to grab it. Sora was staring intently, but not at the apple: Kairi’s form was stretched out in front of him as she reached high over her head, accentuating her curves, and Sora was mesmerized. It was only when she said his name that he snapped out of his trance: ‘Sora,’ she called out, not taking her eyes off the fruit, ‘would you come over and help me with this one? You should be able to–’

Kairi shrieked as Sora, having silently moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her legs and hoisted her up onto his shoulder.

‘Tall enough now?’ he asked casually.

Her surprised squeak was the only reply Kairi could muster. Once she’d successfully picked the apple, Sora released her hips. He held her by the waist as her body slid down his until she landed gently on the ground. Even in the autumn chill, Sora could feel his cheeks burning.

Having regained some of her composure, with a giggle, Kairi said, ‘Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?’ before she turned to the next tree. Sora tried to hide it by replying with a level ‘Absolutely,’ but inside, he was beaming: watching the effect he had on Kairi just never got old for him– but given how hard he had to try to appear cool and unfazed, it wasn’t like he was much better than she was.

Now that he’d had his fun, Sora walked up next to Kairi to help out. The pair picked apples side by side, happily chatting and admiring each other's finds, and over time, their basket filled with bright red apples. While they worked, something about the orchard nagged at Sora’s mind, but he couldn't place it. As he studied a large, blood-red apple in his hands, it finally clicked.

‘All these apples remind me of Snow White,’ Sora remarked. ‘Aqua told me how Snow White’s evil stepmother tried to kill her by getting her to eat a poisoned apple. The dwarves thought she was dead, so they placed her in a beautiful glass casket,’ Sora recalled, his eyes still fixed on the apple. He found himself absentmindedly tracing the spot on his chest where a scar marred the skin over his heart: the permanent reminder of his sacrifice for Kairi– well, his first one, anyway.

‘But she wasn’t dead,’ Sora continued, thought bleeding into memory. ‘She was asleep, and she couldn’t wake up…’

‘Until her true love saved her.’

That broke Sora out of his reverie. He looked up to find Kairi already gazing at him, her eyes soft and sincere. Sora replied, ‘Yeah… Reminds me of another princess I know.’

Did she really mean…?  They’d talked about their first adventure numerous times before, but she’d never said it like that.

‘I would have killed for a nice bed to sleep on,’ she continued. ‘You and Riku took me on quite a journey– napping peacefully in a meadow sounds pretty good to me,’ Kairi said with a grin.

A breeze drifted through the orchard, rustling the leaves over their heads. ‘I remember your dad telling us all those old fairy tales when we were kids,’ Sora said. ‘After all the adventures we’ve had… it’s strange to think we sort of became one ourselves.’

‘They’re not always as fun to live as they are to hear…’ Kairi remarked, almost to herself, ‘when you don’t know if there’ll be a happy ending after all.’ Her eyes grew distant, drifting aimlessly down the row of apple trees.  ‘I… I still remember waking up at Hollow Bastion, seeing that Keyblade in your chest… And then how you–’ she started, but then faltered, unable to bring herself to say what came next.

Sora gently placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. She still seemed lost in thought, not meeting his eyes. ‘I know what you mean. But we did get one, didn’t we, Kairi? It took a while, and we’ve had to find each other again and again, but now you’re here. And thanks to you, I’m here. We’re finally together, and nothing is ever going to change that. That’s the best ‘happily ever after’ I could have wished for.’

The pair were alone, the trees standing sentry around them, but his voice grew softer all the same: these words were just for her. ‘All that doesn’t really matter anymore,’ Sora continued. ‘What I mean is… what matters is that we’re here now. That means it was all worth it.’ He took her hand, interlacing their fingers. ‘Back at Hollow Bastion, when I saw your eyes open just before mine closed, when I knew your heart was safe… it was worth it, Kairi.’

She finally looked up at him. Sora hoped his eyes conveyed the sincerity of his words: It had all been for her– and it had all been worth it, every moment. Every time Sora got to see her sweet smile, got to hear her lovely laugh, it was worth it. And now, he wasn’t just connected to her across the worlds by promises and oaths– if he wanted to find Kairi, all Sora had to do was reach for her hand. How was that not a dream come true?

A small smile forming on her lips, Kairi gave him a look of such love and gratitude that Sora knew she felt the same. ‘It just makes our time together now even more precious to me,’ she finally said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m never going to take this for granted.’

Sora decided then to gather her into his arms and bring her close, her head resting in the crook of his neck, his cheek on her soft hair. ‘You know,’ he started after a pause, ‘I have to admit, when I heard Snow White’s story, I got a bit jealous.’

Kairi pulled back just enough to shoot him a quizzical look. ‘Jealous?’

‘Yeah, of Prince Florian. All he had to do to wake up Snow White and save the day was kiss her– pretty nice deal, if you ask me,’ Sora explained. Kairi smiled, but her eyes were still a bit sad. So he continued, a grin spreading across his face, ‘Don’t know why I didn’t think to try that first…’

‘Oh, Sora!’ Kairi giggled, giving Sora a playful smack on his arm, her face brighter. ‘What, does that mean you thought about kissing Ven at some point, too?’ she countered.

‘I was getting so desperate to find the Power of Waking, I just might have!’ Sora replied, and they both laughed again. Keeping one arm around Kairi, he took a bite from the apple still in his hand. It was crisp and fresh, and amazingly sweet– it was just right, like everything else in this moment.

Suddenly, with a smirk on her face, Kairi plucked the half-eaten apple from Sora’s hand. She lifted the fruit to her lips, holding Sora’s gaze as she took a large bite next to where he’d just bitten, a small drop of juice running down her chin as she chewed. All Sora could do was watch her, hopelessly mesmerized. It was bold, yet playful– Kairi to a T. Before Sora’s brain could fully resume normal functioning, Kairi said, feigning innocence, ‘What? Isn’t sharing fruit kind of our thing? It’s no paopu fruit, but still…’

Staring into her eyes, the radiant sunset bathing them in soft, warm light, Sora grew bold himself: They’d spent so long in silence, so long apart, why waste any time? He’d fought so hard to find her, to come back to her, over and over again. She was right here– if he wanted to kiss her, what on earth was there to consider? Sora reached a hand forward to cup her cheek, wiping the juice from the corner of her lip with his thumb. Kairi let the gentle pull of his thumb part her lips. ‘It is pretty good,’ Sora said, ‘but… you definitely taste better.’ And with that, he lowered his head and kissed her. He heard the sound of the apple landing on the ground, utterly forgotten, as Kairi’s arms wound around his neck.

And Sora had to admit, kissing Kairi felt pretty magical– Maybe those fairytales were onto something after all.

But of course, the distant sound of Aqua, Ven, and Riku calling out in search of them forced the pair to break their kiss, albeit begrudgingly. Sora expected Kairi to step away, pick up her basket, maybe call out to their friends– but she didn’t. She stayed as she was in Sora’s arms, one hand resting on his shirt, over the scar. Sora could feel his heartbeat racing under her touch. When she looked up at him again, something in her eyes was different. Still happy, but mixed with something else– not just happiness, but a determination to be so.

‘This is a pretty large orchard,’ Kairi remarked, her eyes bright. ‘Our friends probably won’t find us for a little while longer…’

‘We’d better not make them wait too long, or Axel will use his chakrams to–’

Kairi grabbed Sora’s hoodie with both hands and pulled him back down to her lips. For a moment, Sora stood frozen, eyes wide with shock. But as she melted into him, his eyes fluttered closed and he wound his arms around her, each kiss between them less ‘Fairy Godmother Friendly’ than the last. Traditionally, in all those fairytales, the heroes only ever got one ‘True Love’s Kiss.’ Sora considered himself the luckiest prince of all time– he had a never ending supply.

Twilight Town was always just that– hanging in perpetual dusk. So Sora really didn’t know how long he and Kairi spent like that, lost in laughter and kisses and caresses beneath the trees. But once their friends’ voices grew dangerously close, Sora and Kairi managed to untangle themselves, wiping swollen lips, readjusting ruffled clothing, and fixing disheveled hair (not that Sora’s hair had been tidy in the first place– and Kairi burst out laughing when she realized her attempts to smooth it didn’t do much good, either). As Kairi called out to their friends, Sora picked up her basket, now full of delicious looking apples, and the pair began to head back toward the orchard entrance. They probably hadn’t gathered the most apples– and he was sure their friends would point that fact out–  but Sora didn’t care one bit. He wouldn’t have traded this day for anything.

‘Hey Kairi?’ Sora said as they walked, ‘For the record, if I’m ever in a fruit induced coma– or any other kind of coma, really– feel free to make out with me, in order to revive me. Thought I should say so, you know, just in case.’

‘Oh, really?’ She teased back. ‘I’ll make sure to tell Donald– you always complain he never uses Curaga when you need it.’

‘What? No! Ew, gross!’ Sora blanched as Kairi dissolved into laughter. But when his eyes found hers again, he couldn’t help but smile.

As her giggles died out, she replied, 'Okay, I’ll remember that… But that doesn’t mean you can go throw yourself into danger so I’ll kiss you better!’

‘I can’t help it– when you kiss me, I feel like I can do anything,’ Sora answered simply. Kairi’s eyes widened at his remark, and she ducked her head as her cheeks bloomed pink. Sora beamed. He may have been laying it on her thick, but Sora wasn’t lying: He had true love on his side– the most powerful magic of all.

-----

[renatlia]

Dawn of the 1st Day

“Where’d the Time go?”

(Part 1/2)

Sensing a looming danger but no immediate threat, they allowed themselves a moment to regain composure. Whatever magic it was pulling them around had never had such an effect before. While sometimes enough to make one falter, this one in particular left them all with vertigo. The miserable Hero of Legend looked ready to crumble under the migraine he typically was able to grit and bear.

The Hero of the Sky was the first to recover. While working at his friend’s neck in hopes of helping, he tried to assess the situation. They were in a new area, one that somehow felt more ominous than anything he’d ever encountered. An intense, sinister hate that sent shivers up his spine.

Those who needed to rest while crawling dungeons, raiding temples, and being wide open to attack develop a keen sense of atmosphere. The absolute rage radiating from all sides set the party of heroes on high alert.

The sky child was reminded of Demise, and yet, the sensation felt heavier. Personal. The demon king may have had targeted his hatred on the goddess and her hero directly, but he hadn’t originally fought out of hatred. That evil sought power and would only hold anger for those actively in his way. Though the curse had twisted into pure malice by the Hero of the Wild’s era, most reappearances focused primarily on attaining power, the other two reincarnations affected by the curse merely put under surveillance.

“Wasn’t it just past noon?” The question snapped the Skyloftian out of his musings. Glancing back at the clock tower, he found it read 6:07, the scent of dew indicating early morn. The youngest of them was correct. It had been just after lunch when the worlds shifted.

“Odd? That’s never happened before,” the Hero of Twilight grunted.

The area wasn’t familiar at all either, judging by the faces shared amongst his comrades. It raised suspicion. The strong aftereffects of the magic that brought them there, the time of day changing, the storm of emotion that made the humid air even heavier. A gut feeling told him that the shadow they’d been following wasn’t behind this.

“Those construction workers look like my own, but that doesn’t lend much. I mean, we did have to drag away the old man before he spent all his rupees on milk after meeting my era’s Malon,” the most colorful among them smirked.

Unfortunately, the reaction they’d hoped to catch was nonexistent. Their unofficial leader was nowhere to be seen. The notion of anyone getting left behind had to be the most disturbing aspect of the last fifteen minutes. The missing hero’s protege looked beside himself with worry and lost on what to do.

“Look!” The Hero of Ages clapped for attention. “Just because the shift was harsher than usual, it doesn’t mean he got left behind. We’d see him again if he had been anyways. We were brought together for a reason, after all. The old man knows how to take care of himself, and he wouldn’t want us fussing over his absence instead of focusing on the matter at hand.

“Something strange is going on-different than usual, but we can’t panic over the unknown. Let’s split up and ask around. Where are we? What and where is the danger? Has anyone seen the old man? He may have only wandered off. It wouldn’t be the first time any of us had.”

Huh. He sure knew how to boost everyone’s morale. Must come from being a captain where he’s from.

“It would be unlike him to wander?” The Hero of Hyrule spoke up.

“Yeah, but... maybe he knows the place? He could’a gotten caught up in his head and forgot the plot. Okay, we’ll keep an eye out,” the farm hand nodded. He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

The eight left of them paired off to cover more ground. As the saying goes, it’s dangerous to go alone. One pair stayed put as the others went separate ways.

~*~

Link let the young hero wrap himself in the end of his scarf once again, the sudden changes in temperature chilling the island dweller. Having become fairly close, Link found it a small comfort to have the boy near. The teen was more than capable on his own, but something in the air raised the hairs off his neck.

The air cooled further as they passed the threshold to an open playground. The dew had yet to dry from the grass sealing in the night’s chill for a bit longer.

“Tingle!” his excitable friend whispered. He jutted his head towards an odd fellow spinning in place. It was a wonder the guy didn’t get dizzy.

The man, who had to be in his mid to late thirties, wore what Link could only describe as dark red undergarments over a skin-tight, full-body suit of a vibrant green. A hood exposed only his face and came to a point sticking up on the top of his head. Finally clueing Link in to what he was doing, he had a pen and parchment in hand and a compass dangling from his neck.

Okay, a map maker. Spinning explained. Gaudy costume? Still weird.

The little sailor tugged him over by the scarf he had wrapped tightly around his arms and was still firmly tucked around Link’s neck. The “forest fairy” was rather nice if a little bizarre. He told them that he sold maps of current locations at a discount, and so, the pair sat down next to a slide to get a better look at “Clock Town.”

Link frowned. The name tickled something in the back of his mind, and Tingle also seemed vaguely familiar. He quit thinking on it when felt a sharp sting in his neck, which had been happening frequently as of late. He must’ve jumped, because he received a concerned glance that he had to wave off.

Link knew the sting wasn’t a bad thing. He could recall his adventures just fine, but names, faces, and locations had become foggy since meeting the others. He remembered traveling across different eras and meeting many people of legend and myth. He figured out that the sting would stop him from thinking on them, and he pieced together that they were probably people his companions knew on their adventures (and likely lost). The goddesses sure had peculiar ways to protect their heroes. He just hoped the fog would clear once it was all over, feeling a sense of loss over his amnesia.

He blinked to focus on the map. The town was sectioned off in four areas, convenient that they’d paired off. “South Clock Town” held the clock tower with little else but the banker they had passed on their way north. To the west was what looked like an alley for shopping and other errands. The east, however, was far larger and most likely housed the local inn, which Link made a quick mental note of. The playground they were in didn’t have much, but they decided to ask around a bit more before ditching the place.

The little boy shooting darts at a balloon didn’t tell them anything. He had refused to listen to them and yelled at them to leave him alone to his practice. Not wanting to anger the child anymore, they proceeded to speak with the guard positioned at the town exit. After flailing for a moment at having found such a decorated knight in Clock Town, he managed to collect himself enough to direct them towards a cave past where Tingle... had been? “If anything, surely the Great Fairy can guide you!”

Entering the Fairy Fountain was just as refreshing as ever. The temperature was always comfortable no matter the weather outside. A calm would wash over you like a serene spring morning. Tall arches layered in vines surrounded a shallow pool of crystal clear water. The same water cascading down the circular wall parting at the entrance.

Link heard a squawk beside him, and he gasped also catching sight of a swirling cluster of fairies. Typically, there may be three or four fairies milling about at any given time, but there had to be around twenty circling in the center of the fountain.

“Heroes! Please hear my plea!” a warbled voice squealed from the mass. “I have been broken and shattered to pieces by the masked Skull Kid. Please find the one Stray Fairy lost in town, and bring her to this Fairy Fountain.”

Without hesitation, they spun on their heels and sprinted away to hunt down the missing fairy.

~*~

Link sighed as his childhood hero spent another handful of rupees to retry a game for the umpteenth time. For one who treasures his wallet so much, the Hero of Legend sure loved gambling. He’d tried prying him away, but the stubborn veteran just kept getting more red and hell-bent with every loss.

“I’ll be right outside when you’re done!” Link shouted over the loud music. The only acknowledgment he received was a shooing motion.

Taking a breather, he watched two performers juggling to each other in a daze. They were actually really good. The balls were thrown high and were in order of color. Maintaining that had to be difficult.

Link ruffled his hair. He really shouldn’t be spacing out like that, especially in unknown territory. Deciding to at least start on their original task, Link made his way over to the jugglers and overheard their conversation.

“My, my! Funny things are happening in town, aren’t they? Funny. Funny.”

“You’re telling me! Like the rumors about the swamp to the south? Did you hear about the kidnapping?”

What? Kidnapping? Link worried his bottom lip. Should I grab the others? We should help, right?

“Oh, my! The kidnapping?”

“Yep! But then the kid woke up. Get it? Kid napping? Hooo... I got a million of ‘em!”

He glared at the twins’ laughter. Though honestly, it wasn’t even a bad joke. Relax, Link. You’re just on edge. He rolled his shoulders back and coughed. “Excuse me. New around here. Could you tell me what’s going on?”

“We’re the twin jugglers from the Gorman Troupe! We’re practicing for the big carnival! It happens once in a blue moon!”

“Or in this year’s case, once in a really, really scary, red-eyed moon!”

“Ho! Ho! I hear it’s gonna fall harder than the way my clumsy brother is always dropping our juggling balls!”

“You see, we’re entertainers. We must keep people smiling. No matter how grim things get, we must always be optimistic!”

They proceeded to talk about some fellow performers, but Link’s mind was elsewhere. Scary moon? What do they mean it’s gonna fall? He turned around to go get his partner but found him standing only a couple feet away.

“Sorry, come again? ‘Red-eyed moon?’ What’s fallin’?” the Hero of Legend asked.

“Why, just look up!”

“Frightening, isn’t it? Hooo...”

AN: I feel like it’s been at least a month since I posted the Prologue, and I felt kinda bad about it. At least this part was fairly finished in my opinion, so I wanted to go ahead and post it. I don’t really have the other half fleshed out as much as I’d like it to be, but I’ll continue to work on it. Hope you like! (The majority of the dialogue for the npcs are taken straight from the game. That’s something taking up a huge part of my time trying to incorporate their words in scenes.)

[ikesenhell]

The Burden

Elysium, Part Four. You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine in my Masterlist. NOTES: Nothing particular. LETS GET THIS BREAD -spikes my laptop and then apologizes profusely to it-

---

The Chairman detained them for most of the next day. Mercifully, between the three of them, they juggled new plans and training details and drafts for checkpoints along the main highways. Evening came, and they at last were free. 

“I'm going out,” Napoleon announced, throwing on his sword belt and caplet. “Anything before I go?”

Jean frowned and lifted himself from one of the beds. “Then I will go with you.”

“That isn't necessary.” 

“If you're walking into the woods after that bandit alone, then I should think you need another sword arm. Just in case.”

Napoleon accepted the offer with a smile and a pat on his friend's shoulder. Isaac just grumbled about having blueprints to draft and things to read, and together, the two men left the safety of the inn and headed about town. 

Information was never hard to come by if you knew where to look. If there was anything Napoleon had learned in his time ruling Elysium, it was that two things always held true: One, people were more willing to talk if you gave them something first. Two, children always knew more than they let on. It was the second one he planned to lean on. They ambled through the red cobblestone streets, side by side, wandering down the winding roads, and—ah! A small group of children milled around an ancient well. 

“Me first, Jer! Me first!”

“You still haven't said sorry after pushing me last week! I'm not giving you any!”

“That's not fair--!”

The center of the commotion—“Jer”, a lanky boy of maybe eight, split from the group and sprinted, a paper bag clutched to his chest and a stream of children capering after. Napoleon couldn’t help but laugh. They scampered around benches and in huge circles up and down the street. 

And then Jer collided with a little girl half his size, both of them crashing to the cobblestones. 

“Ah!” Napoleon ran to them. Jer looked fine, but the smaller child? Poor thing. Her eyes welled with tears, hands smushed against her mouth. Her scraped knee oozed fresh blood. He lifted her to her feet, and she wobbled uncertainly, but stood nonetheless. 

“Look at you,” he soothed, patting her head. “You’re a tough girl! No crying, yeah? It’s just a scrape. Does anything else hurt?”

Jer clambered over, the paper bag still clutched to his chest. “Mila, I’m so sorry, please don’t tell Mom--”

“Hey now.” Napoleon set his jaw and tried not to laugh. “She’s the injured party here. Ask her if she’s okay first before you start begging for her silence.”

The little girl smushed her fists against her eyes, but nodded. “I’m f-f-fine.”

“Brave girl.” He patted her shoulder and watched her little frown transform to a shy smile. “That’s the way. What are you chasing him for, anyway? And--” He glanced up, almost wheezing with laughter as he realized the other kids had dispersed. Jean looked just as confused as he. “Your friends don’t stick around, do they?”

The boy shook his head sheepishly. “We’re not really friends with them. I, um… I got a present is all.”

Mila wasn’t so reserved. She stamped a foot and shouted, “He got candy!”

Candy? Napoleon shot Jean a glance. Candy was expensive, and neither of these children seemed particularly well off from the look of their clothing. “Is that so?”

“I--” Jer flushed. “Yeah. Look.” 

The paper bag was crumpled and worse for wear, but its contents were unmistakable. The sweet scent of honey and sugar wafted from inside. What a rare treat! Napoleon considered them, wondering where someone might get a collection of delicacies like that. “Who gave you these?”

Jer squared his jaw. “I bought them.”

“Lying is a sin, young man,” Jean reproached softly.

It was difficult to tell if the child was more uneasy about sinning, or simply Jean’s insertion into the conversation. Either way, he folded easily. “I--they were a gift.”

“From who?” Napoleon prodded. “I’m not going to get you in trouble. We’re just looking for a friend.”

Mila scuffed her feet on the cobblestone. “A nice man with curly hair.”

“Yeah,” Jer added, uncertain, “Reddish-blonde curls, most of his face was covered…”

“Oh? Which way did they go?”

The siblings pointed out a nearby gate. Beyond that, the woods were clearly visible. Jean nodded matter-of-factly, adjusting his sword belt. At last--a lead.

“Thank you,” Napoleon soothed, patting both of the children. “Get home safely, alright? And share some of that candy with your sister.”

---

Tracking the footsteps out to the forest was simple enough. After crossing the boundary of trees--that was another matter entirely. He hated to ask Jean to use the Voices, and their quarry was well versed in hiding themselves. Little details mattered; a snapped branch here, a freshly overturned rock there. As quiet as they were, they still startled a flock of sparrows in their wake. 

“That’ll tip them off,” Jean murmured, hand on his sword hilt. 

“I know,” Napoleon answered. “Maybe that’ll be a good thing.”

“Maybe.”

Night swiftly approached. The light between the leaves faded from gold to orange. Soon they would turn back. But then, at the last moment, Jean motioned for quiet. 

“I hear a river.”

He was right. They passed the thinning line of trees into a tiny clearing, the glowing twilight sky overhead glittering on the clear, wide water. Maybe another day he would consider this a wonderful resting place. For now, he had two concerns:

One. There was a small stack of discarded clothing on the bank. 

Two. There was someone on the shore with a crossbow loaded and pointed directly at him. 

“Ah!” Napoleon tried--and failed--not to laugh. “So you’re a woman!”

August (it had to be August, there was no one else he’d met recently with that same piercing stare and firebrand hair) cocked a severe brow at him. They’d clearly gotten dressed in a hurry. Their pants were wrinkled, shirt sticking wetly to their chest, water still rolling down their cheeks. Without all the armor, their curves were obvious. 

“I’m not a woman,” they snapped back. “Put the sword away, General d’Arc.”

Jean kept the blade raised, but didn't move. “Lower the crossbow first.”

Napoleon pressed forward. “So you’re not a woman? You’re a man?”

“I--” August’s brows knit in confusion. “Is that really pertinent when I have a bolt pointed at your chest?”

“I have to know how to address you when you kill me.” 

They rolled their eyes so far back that he wondered if it would stick. “Sword down, d’Arc. The crossbow goes nowhere first. It’s two on one.”

For only another moment, Jean hesitated. Finally, he sheathed his sword and tossed it to the soft earth. “You’ve shown yourself honorable before. I suppose I’ll trust you not to shoot.”

“I appreciate that. And you, Sir Bonaparte?”

Napoleon was already unbuckling his sword belt, but he laughed anyway. “I don’t recall introducing myself to you with my last name.”

“Find me someone else with the name ‘Napoleon’, and I will retract the association. I’m no fool. The moment you provided me your name, I knew who exactly it was I was dealing with.”

The second weapon fell to the ground. At last, August lowered the weapon--but kept it firmly in hand. They had fine features. Long lashes, severe brows, a full mouth set in a line. And the way they spoke; this was no peasant. They were educated. Napoleon appraised their foot stance and burst out laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” August scowled. 

“I now understand why I didn't recognize your swordsmanship,” he gasped. “You fight like a woman.”

Three eyes blinked at him. Napoleon pointed. “She--he--they’re trained in women’s fencing. Look at the feet.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jean answered reproachfully. “I’m not familiar with that.”

August shuffled their feet. It was too late. Napoleon howled with laughter again. “You took a noblewoman’s sport, added a saber, put all your weight into it--”

“Don’t mock me,” they snapped, ears flaming. 

“I’m not! It was brilliant! No wonder I couldn’t identify what you were doing--”

Up came the crossbow. Napoleon did his best to compose himself. When the laughter stopped, it finally went down once more. 

“If you’re done laughing,” August snapped, “Would you mind telling me why you interrupted my bath?”

Down to business. Napoleon folded his hands behind his back. “Simply put, we believe we’ve walked into a trap with Penrith.”

A snort. “No shit.”

Jean narrowed his eyes. “So you knew.”

August merely motioned for them to continue. Napoleon followed up. “If you know who we are, then you know we come from Elysium. We were asked to come here and assist with a bandit problem. Obviously, you found us first--and you hardly match the description offered us.”

“I imagine not.” The bandit finally set down the crossbow, scooping up the pile of clothes from the riverbank. “If you two wouldn’t mind turning around?”

Jean swiveled on his heel instantly. Napoleon followed suit, speaking into the tree line. “They also seem to have some kind of knowledge about our party that we didn't want getting out. Otherwise, our stay in the city has been very tame, but given the discrepancies, we wanted to speak to you.”

A rustle of fabric. “What makes you think I’m that much more believable?”

“You were looking for something.” Napoleon paused. “That, and you showed kindness. It doesn’t fit the profile of banditry.”

“Mmm. You can turn.”

Gone were all the curves. August smoothed out their shirt, chest flat underneath, tugging on layers of leather armor and buckling them expertly, wet hair still clinging to their forehead. “Given the history between our two countries, I’d think you’d be reluctant to trust anyone.”

A half-decade of bloody war hung unspoken. Penrith always claimed that the aggression on Elysium’s borders was only perpetuated by their former Chairman. They’d repeated as much over and over again. But words--oh, words and peace treaties didn't bring back the dead, nor did it absolve Napoleon of his responsibility to Them. He always had to be cautious. 

“True.” Napoleon agreed.

“So I presume whatever I say will be taken with a grain of salt?”

“That would be the case. Unless you can prove it, sir--mada--”

“Sir works.” August yanked on a pair of gloves and flung the crossbow easily over their broad shoulder, finally coming closer. The smell of fresh lavender soap and clear river water hovered around them. “I won’t give you words, then. I’ll give you proof. How does that sound?”

“I’ll accept that.”

“Perfect.” They lifted their proud chin, working a scarf over their face until only their eyes remained uncovered. “Go to the central plaza fountain tomorrow at dusk. You’ll find a priest with a coin. He’ll show you.”

“And what if I’m walking into an ambush?”

August simply shrugged. “Then kill them. I doubt you’ll be going alone. I have nothing to gain from seeing either of you come to harm. Tomorrow, dusk, central plaza fountain. That is the terms to truth. I can’t risk letting on what I know without some buy-in faith.”

Then that was that. Napoleon nodded, reaching for his sword belt. August nodded firmly back, rounded on their heel, and stalked toward the tree line. Jean merely stood for one moment--then lunged forward. “Wait.”

They stopped in their tracks, eyes wide. “Yes?”

“I--” Jean stood wordless for what felt like eternity. “Thank you. Your kindness in untying me was unnecessary--”

“--No, no, that’s--don’t thank me for that.” Did they sound flustered? “It was nothing. You were--it seemed you were panicking. It was simple enough to do.”

A beat. Jean stuck out his hand. August stared, then, slowly, took his, clasping tight. 

“God be with you,” Jean murmured. 

And those bright eyes crinkled, like a thousand colors bursting in the height of summer and blooming all at once. “I hope you realize that I don’t know the appropriate response for that. But thank you. And with you as well.”

Finally, they released each other. Jean charged back, head high, Napoleon following him back into the underbrush. Overhead, the sunlight faded and the stars emerged, a thick blanket of night sounds swallowing them whole. Bit by bit, they picked their way back through the woods and out onto the road. 

Napoleon finally allowed a chuckle. “They’ve got expressive eyes, don’t they?”

Jean blinked like a man emerging from a dream. “What?”

“Expressive eyes. August. When you shook hands.”

His friend and second in command released a tiny strangled noise before managing a feeble, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lying is a sin, Jean.”

The poor man looked so stricken in the moonlight that Napoleon doubled over in his tracks, laughing until his throat scratched. Jean did his best--but after only a few moments, he cracked a faint smile, smoothing his uniform with nervous hands. “Forgive me, I--I didn't think when I said that--”

“No, no. You’re forgiven, friend.” 

They made it back to town before the gates closed. Napoleon cast a glance into the central plaza as they headed back to the inn, the red brick fountain bubbling with life, and wondered what they would find there tomorrow.

[marinecorvid]

untitled 1.  i. your town is small even though it shouldn’t be. there’s nowhere to go, no point in sneaking out. your mother is a light sleeper, if you have one. there are much braver souls than you. ii. there are no shadows but there are still threats. the idea of taking a walk during twilight seems tempting, and even though you don’t completely believe the stories, the consequences outweigh the rewards more often than not. iii. your teachers also taught your parents, and their parents, and their parents before them. you’ve all gone to the same high school. iv. you either stay in connecticut for generations, or you leave as soon as you can. any sane person will leave as soon as they can. no one moves to connecticut, and those that do stay longer than they intended and long for freedom. v. connecticut looms behind you, you must step carefully - even the smallest slip will send you back. vi. you’ve lived in connecticut your whole life, and yet it’s still so unfamiliar. everyone knows where norwich and windsor is. you don’t know where norwich and windsor are. “it’s in wethersfield” they say. you nod your head. you don’t know where wethersfield is. vii. they say your state is the most haunted state. they’re not wrong, but it’s not in the stereotypical sense. there’s an odd feeling in the air. it’s not heavy, but when you’re up at 11 at night with no sense of time, connecticut is undoubtedly haunted. (in your local history class, you learn about the graveyard on the high school property. salem has nothing on connecticut.)  viii. “where are you from” they ask. you smile tightly and say “connecticut.” the word tastes like dust on your tongue, the same dust that clung to everything in your house. ix. speaking of your house, it was old, it dated back to the times you couldn’t care about and didn’t recall learning about, but you knew. you instinctively knew. it’s in your blood. x. religion seems to be held at arms length. it’s the kind that’s subtle, peripheral, but like a knife all the same xi. you see your classmate working at target while shopping for clothes. you both smile awkwardly and look away from each other. the boy working at the ice cream booth on ocean beach, is he a classmate? is he even your age? xii. you meet your middle school history teacher in a dunkin donuts. your high school counselor is married to him. they have two kids. xiii. autumn arrives too late to be normal, to be comfortable. it doesn’t feel like the autumn southerners rave about. you know this, logically, but it still feels wrong. halloween feels like it should be a superstitious time, but it’s not. there’s too much life sucked out of you to care. you can’t bring yourself to care. xiv. you’re torn between being afraid of unnatural things and simply not caring if they’re there. you’ve grown up in connecticut. xv. your classmate squeals when she sees a beetle for the third class in a row on the floor. it’s a beetle, you want to say. what’s the matter? it’s then you realize she’s one of the ones who aren’t truly aware. xvi. “where are you going to college?” they ask. “uconn” you answer. where else would you be going. xvii. there are no cliques. everyone has known each other long enough not to care. everyone knows everyone. if you’re smart, stay out of feuds. it’s better not to get involved. xviii. the thought of leaving and never returning is holy, in the way thoughts can be holy without being remotely religious, but you don’t know how to act outside connecticut. connecticut becomes horrifyingly familiar to you. it shouldn’t be. xix. the pizza place down the street burned down. a shock, it’s been there for ages. the pizza place down the street burned down. a shame, it was rather nice. xx. the backroads seem nice. you marvel at them every time you pass. it seems like such a stereotypical new england scene of autumn and cider. you enter your town and remember the truth and remain wary. it would not do you well to dwell on falsehoods of this place. xxi. there are some people that are better than connecticut deserves. cling to them for as long as you can before you are dragged down or make the dash for safety.  xxii. you go for a camping trip with your wealthier relatives out of state. you feel rejuvenated, happy, even. you feel motivated, ready to do anything. it doesn’t last five minutes back in state. nothing lasts in connecticut.

my thoughts on connecticut as someone who’s lived there all seventeen years of their life | 10 - 07 - 2017

[starhoodies]

My trip to the KH World Tour Orchestra!

(I took these two with me LOL)

Hi guys! Whew today was a long day for me! Emotions are still raw, but I have so much I wanted to share from this concert! I have a few photos and I wanted to tell you guys all about the music, visuals, merch, seeing Shimomura and Nomura on stage, ect!

So the drive to LA was full of traffic and the theater's parking was a nightmare to navigate through but oh my god it was so worth it to be there. 

I grew up with Kingdom Hearts but I was too young to be apart of the times where cosplayers were super frequent and hype was ramped up as much as it was mid-2000s, so it was so amazing to finally be in a room...full of KH fans for once. 

Once I was in the lobby for the showing, I was able to get my hands on some merch just 10 minutes before the thing started! LOL They had CD’s (they were sold out when I asked ahhh TvT), Kingdom Keyblade conductor batons, shirts, show guides and ticket pouches.

This is what I got! All of it coming to about $130 LOL 

I’ve got some (pretty bad) shots of the guide if ya’ll were interested! There’s interviews as well as character bios and snippets from all the games. Helps to get caught up if you’ve missed a game OR all of them if you’re like my mother.

So once we got settled into our seats (Mum and I were at the back of the pit! So we were right near the show!) I didn’t take anymore than this because it’s against policy and I didn’t want to be rude. (That didn’t stop a dude behind me from flashing a pic during Xion’s theme though smh) I got one quick while they were warming up with character themes.

 The show started up with The orchestrated version of Hikari along with the DDD opening and let me tell you I was a ball of shaking and crying tears. My poor mother held onto my arm the entire time. Once I saw Sora burst through that book page I was done for. 

You can follow along the soundtrack in which order they played everything in on youtube so I won’t get into what was played, but during Dearly Beloved we got to have a little speech from Kairi! (Japanese VA with subs) It was set up as a kind of letter to Sora letting him know about her training. (I’m pretty sure a lot of people are aware of what she says but I’ll mention here just in case!)

 She mentions the usual kairi things about missing him and how how he should always remember to keep at his cheerful self. She mentions how Lea won’t stop apologizing to her even after forgiving him and that how it’s hard not to like him what with finding out he has a best friend he wishes to be reunited with. She says she catches him staring at her sometimes and when she asks why, he can’t explain it, but feels as though he should remember something (HHHHHHH)

We have something similar from Xion about thanking her friends for being there for her and introducing her to all these new things. She specifically thanks Roxas for saying her name, because she started feeling as though she had a heart from then on. My creys. (It was at this point my mom was like “why does the red head girl keep changing her hair color LOLOL)

There was a few scenes from the Japanese dub that were showed like, the Ventus’s “as my friends, please put an end to me” and Roxas’s “Guess my summer vacation’s over” scene. Aqua has the little bit where she’s wanting to wake Ven up and how he and Terra are her strength to keep going. 

The character songs were so much fun to watch clip shows to. The Lazy Afternoons and At Dusk, I will think of you reaaaaally got me emotional from the transition to the twilight town trio + roxas to Axel, Xion and Roxas. HOOO BOY.

Destati was gorgeous, The final boss theme KILLED, My mother loved twinkle twinkle holidays, and The other promise brings a tear to my eye as always.

I was so emotionally drained after the first half I couldnt get up to get a drink during intermission. And afterwards they showed the new trailer!! :DDD Everyone went N U T S my dude. There was so much OOOing and AAHing it was so good.

I was pleasantly surprised on how the show felt centered on the kh gals most of the time? Of course Sora and Roxas were the stars of this thing, but they used every cutscene of kairi that like existed, and despite that not being... a lot, it felt nice having her in the spotlight for a bit. (It was a lot of her doing love interest things sadly, but like seeing her just exist was a breath of fresh air)

My only personal con is a super petty super nitpicky “could use more riku” not because he missed out on any screen time, he had a good amount, it’s just I don’t recall  him getting a lot of time for himself which surprised me, but it wasn’t even that noticeable. It seems everyone had time to say a bit but him. Which is super odd considering he’s Riku LOL (I don’t recall Namine or Lea getting to say anything either. BUT HEY KID YOU’RE SPOILED ROTTEN ANYWAYS. YOU HAD UR CHARACTER SONG AND YOU GOT TO WALK OFF INTO THE SYMBOLIC III OF LIGHT WITH UR BUD AT THE END YOU’RE FINE.

Yoko Shimomura came off and on quite often actually! She was so precious! She kept thanking everyone for coming and everyone cheered so loudly for her. She first showed up saying: “Thank you everyone for making this possible” and then her translator showed up and Yoko just said “Um...I speak Japanese” and laughed as she continued in her native language while her translator...translated. 

At the end of the show she actually played the ending credit theme for us! ( THE CONDUCTOR SHOWS UP WITH THE KEYBLADE BATON AND USES IT TO CONDUCT IT WAS SO CUTE.)And thanked us for coming again.

AND THEN. Yoko continued with here concluding statement with “We have a very special guest for all of you.” AND RIGHT FROM LEFT STAGE COMES A SMOL, SUPER CASUAL, TETSUYA NOMURA. EVERYONE LOST IT EXCEPT FOR MY MOM WHO WAS LIKE “????” 

THIS TINY SASSY MAN WAS LIKE “Well you know I was here yesterday. And that the trailer came out yesterday...so I really don’t have much to say.” 

He starts talking about how he and Yoko will return next month (d23??) for “THE FINAL INFORMATION” as the translator put it.(I’m thinking III release date?) He and Yoko bicker and banter in rapid japanese and the poor translator could barely keep up. “LA was where me and Yoko started working together. It’s good to be here.” He says. Yoko laughs and states that “ahhh yes five years...or twenty years ago?? I like to think I’m still young.”

AND...tbh I was so SPENT I don’t remember much after that. They said their thank yous again and we were on our way. Honestly, I was melancholy it was over. I didn’t want to leave. I want to ingrain this into my memory forever.

My mom said afterwards that she had no idea what was going on but she wasn’t bored for a second. Haha!

Ahh, I guess I’ll have to try and get to D23 now! Let me know if ya’ll thinking about going too! I’m sorry my pics of the guide weren’t great LOL my phone’s awful. 

[harrison-abbott]

Short Story - White Hook

WHITE HOOK

     Ella races up the steps. She can’t never fully escape the smell of coffee, but at least the smell is less strong upstairs. When reaching the floor, customers sit at tables, so she must stop herself from crying. I can’t let the tears fall she thinks.

    “Are you all right, Ella?” her colleague at the counter asks.

    “Yeah I’m good.”

    Her colleague is an overbearingly nice man and Ella doesn’t like that. She takes her horror-genre book and sits by the window seats with her back to everyone. That’s how she likes to spend her breaks, these days: alone, watching the street.

    The horror book is mindlessly bad, but she’s a fair way into it. Some tacky amusement while she eats the chocolate bar. The street view below sometimes gives her comfort; today it’s in a cheerful blue-yellow light. When she watches the cobbled road, she can forget her coffee-shop job. Dear Lord, it’s nearly six years I’ve been working here …

    Ella removes her glasses and rubs her eyes. The poised pain of tears is gone, for now. Why has she been so upset lately? Things aren’t so bad as she studies the characters below. Most are familiar town members; elderly people with calm satisfactions, children with restrained imaginations.

    Suddenly a new character cuts a frame into the sun. A man. He looks unusual. Or rather, unusually familiar … She blinks into focus with her glasses back on. He has a broad torso and dark eyes like French paintings; she knows this man! Definitely, that’s him!

    But just then his bulk crosses from view. Should she run downstairs and catch him? And say what? I recognised him from somewhere … Ella leaning forward on her seat, motionless, is he a movie star? Sure looked like one. But why would he be in a little town like this?

    Her break is nearly finished. But that doesn’t matter; Ella can’t rip her mind from that man’s sight: it’s given her something to think about. She even smiles at the colleague she doesn’t like as she returns downstairs.

    “Maisy, did you see that really handsome man that walked past a minute ago?” she says to her girlfriend at the counter.

    “A handsome man?” Maisy responds, grinning, “In this town? I think I would’ve noticed.”

    Ella’s prickly, with flushed cheeks, and as she serves more coffees she keeps scanning through the sunny windows. Maisy notices this and laughs.

    “Wowee, Ella, I never see you like this. Who was this man exactly, someone you know?”

    “I think I did recognise him, yeah, but I can’t place it …”

    Noon slips to afternoon. Ella finishes at 3 pm. She deliberately does the tables outside repeatedly, even though she’s already taken all the cups. Each time she alights from the café the cold air weaves her unto a new place, possibilities in youth returning. She’s guessing that the mysterious man will return the other way down the street, where she’ll see him again.

    3 pm arrives and normally Ella would be far away from the café already. Instead she sits by an outside table with a cigarette, playing with the smoke patterns against the sky. I’m sure he will come back.

    Yet when the mirage shape finally emerges distantly, she can’t bring her head up to look, to watch his entrance. It’s already too perfect. She lights another cigarette with ditsy fingers. His gait is angular, a slow juggernaut – his chest is so wide, even from here, below the light-brown coat. She covers her face with one hand and looks at him fully.

    Logan – that’s his name. He’s not a movie-star; he’s more handsome than that. Eyelids lilt across bulbous irises that twinkle despite their shade. A white hook of hair shoots above his forehead, suggesting a wealthy age, a virile heart.

    Stop staring at him she plucks another cigarette puff, but she instantly veers her eyes back again. He’s maybe eight yards from her at the table, a revelation by time’s shapeless power. Logan walks past her, but she doesn’t turn to watch, allowing that last nonchalant image to cleanse her.

    Logan, she knew him once; Ella cannot believe he’s returned here. Where has he been? How long ago did I last see him? Before I worked at the café even! Glorious questions connect with wispy fables; she wants to rush in and tell Maisy everything. But she’s inside dealing with customers. Ella takes her bag up and skips home.

    Happiness – how it clouds sadness; dual worlds far apart yet the former forever more potent. Ella used to know Logan at that water-park she worked in, that summer, wow, eight years ago. She was just a kid then, basically, and so was Logan. He was her colleague and friend, and she’d loved him a little, if only it lasted a fortnight.  

    That little park with mini-golf and the pedal boats on the pond. They were hiring high-school leavers and drop-outs, Ella being the former and Logan the latter. That was a great, easy job, now I remember it … But Logan had made it the best. Memories of him making the children excited before they pedalled out onto the pond; memories of pink sky-downs as she and Logan closed-up the gates and collected stray golf balls.

    Ella arrives to her flat and quickly acquires a bottle of wine she’s been saving. She drinks and plays with her cat on the sofa and thinks about Logan. It was just the two of them that had worked in the park; they got paid minimum wage – nothing, but Ella recalls the prolonged rush of his company. His exquisite beauty, his ripe character.

    They would work in the days of sun and go to the bar afterwards by twilight. Well, they’d only drank together twice, but both times had been magical.

    And, yes, now she remembers, on that last night, Logan had kissed her. A trill of lips on her upper cheek, as they hugged before going home.

    Ella sits in a glow, the wine bottle half gone, and falls asleep.

    She awakes by infant morning, the sky still dark. She’s in her clothes, and cold. Fears begin to tumble over her. Has she dreamed all this nonsense about a boy she used to know? In the mirror her lips are caked in wine. No, Logan was and is real, and she did see him earlier. She undresses and shivers in bed, where she remembers the rest of the story.

    Logan had left the theme-park job that very night when he pecked her cheek. She remembers, alternatively, the furious stupidity she suffered the next day when he didn’t turn up. “He quit,” was the Boss’ simple response when Ella had asked why Logan hadn’t showed. Then came the avalanche of useless and even more brainless questions for months afterwards; why he’d left work, why he’d seemingly disappeared altogether.

    Ella falls asleep with likewise caution. But when she sleeps, her dreams banish the hesitation, toying with fables and pictures.

    She has again work in the morning. She sits by porridge beforehand, her thinking revolving rationally. But there might be so many reasons why he left that night, especially if he didn’t even mention it before. I shouldn’t need to be sad again, for something that happened so long ago. I might just see him today again. And if not, then, well, nevermind. And thus, she marches back to work determinedly.

Maisy’s tiredly cheerful as they open the café.

    “We going to see your hunk today again, Ella?” she says.

    “We’ll see …”

    “Did you ever see him again yesterday after you told me?”

    “No, didn’t see him. Maybe I just imagined it all.”

    As customers come and go and the day continues, Ella finds that her hands are jittery, her scalp strangely itchy. She’s styled her hair up in a bulb which she barely ever does, maybe that’s why. Keeps surveying how sharp her lipstick is in any reflection. She knows that Maisy knows she’s trying to look pretty, but also that Maisy won’t make fun of her for it because she’s a kind woman.

    By early afternoon she’s eased a little. She already has a plan if she sees Logan again. In the street – that’s where it will happen. Her plan is to call out to him as, “Excuse me, Sir, Sir?” and she’ll hold out a coin and say “I think you dropped this Sir?” And it won’t matter that it isn’t his because she’ll then enquire that she knows him from somewhere, does she?

    She finishes at 3 o’clock again today; Logan and she will definitely meet.

    Winter sunshine always seems sad, by transparent or watery tones. Spring sunlight should seem different; the light which conjures winking snowdrops, which lifts the under-leaf in shy woodlands. But the Spring light in this forgotten town always seems anonymous, without a season’s maternity. The April window-light cannot blind the monotony within this café.

    Ella stands, with her head down at the counter, playing with her phone. She watches gimmicky videos, smiling within this haze which she’s been allowed; even the mere hope of being near Logan is something to justify a heartbeat. It’s also nearly her break-time; maybe she’ll see him from the window upstairs.

    “Hello, there,” a voice says in front of her. It’s deep and simple.

    “Yes, what can I get you?”

    When Ella looks up she realises Logan is standing right in front of her.

    “Could I get a regular cappuccino please?” he says.

    “… Sitting in or takeaway? …”

    “Sit in.”

    He taps a foot while she makes the drink. Maisy isn’t here to see her blush, which is heavy and hanging. She’s too dumbfounded to ask for the money when she gives it to him, but he has the coins ready anyway. His forefinger touches her palm, and she turns away, but his rich voice catches her.

    “Is that Ella?”

    She tries to smile, and manages:

    “Do I know you from somewhere?”

    “Yeah, yes. We used to work together, like a decade ago! How have you been?”

    “Good, good.”

    He takes his coffee and begins to leave.

    “I was just going to take my break!” she splutters.

    “Right. I’ll sit over here if you want to join me.”

    Maisy comes back downstairs to the counter as Ella takes her apron off. Her blush has gone, and she whispers to Maisy, “I can’t believe this, girl: that’s him over there. He asked me to sit with him!”

    Maisy grins nervously, and pretends not to listen/watch as Ella coyly walks over and sits at Logan’s table.

    He smiles at her, leaning back; her frame shrinks before his as she tries to settle in her seat.

    “So how have you been, Ella? I thought I saw you yesterday, but wasn’t sure.”

    He’s using my name. I could swim in his face, the contours of his wide cheeks.

    “I’ve been okay … It’s so strange to see you though. I’m surprised you even remember me.”

    “Yeah, we worked in Wonder Village. That was one of the best jobs I ever had.”

  “Haha, yes I remember it fondly. But where did you ever go?”

    “I moved, down-State. I was gonna see out my time at the Village, but they needed me down there instead.”

    “Who is ‘they’?”

    “The business I work for – Motor industry.”

    He sips his cappuccino, somehow the grace behind the beige jacket falls. His clothes are expensive, fake.

    “I’m more surprised you’re still here,” he says.

    She blinks, wondering whether to be offended, wondering whether this was a question.

    “Why’d you come back at all?” she says, instead.

    “My Uncle died. Funeral was yesterday.”

    “Oh, I’m sorry …”

    “Ah: he wasn’t having much fun with life. Dementia. Saddest way to go for a sweet man like him.”

    What else can she say? His eyes writhe, the curves of the bulbs rolling different ways. She realises she has nothing to tell him.

    “What’s the Motor Industry like?”

    “Brings good money in. Alas, I never became the famous singer I wanted to be.”

    “I always liked your singing …”

   He looks at her warily, and continues drinking.

    “I didn’t mean offence by saying it’s surprising that you’re still in this town. You look pretty good.”

    “Thanks … I’d like to catch up later, if you want? We could go to Archie’s – that pub we used to go to – it’s still there!”

    “Archie’s? Ha, good. Well, I’d love to, Ella, but I have to head back home tomorrow morning early.”

    Ella gulps. It’s like a feeling of wet-clothes. But not through rain – nothing natural. More like gloomy damp garments in airless rooms.

    “I’ll finish my cappuccino with you though,” he says.

    And he begins to talk about his life in the city. But this is when her ears turn away, and she stops listening. Ella can already hear what he says. Perhaps it is not the pain of a naïve, girlish fancy turned quickly rotten, but the envy of a handsome man who lives in the city. Oh, the money, the big houses, the buzz of urbanity; Logan has all this by him. But what does all of that mean really? Maybe I just belong in this little town, right? What’s wrong with that?

    Ella suddenly spurts up from the table, her chair thrust back.

    “Are you all right?” Logan says.

    “I got to go. Bye,” she leaves him at the table; Maisy is watching her too: Ella shirks from her and darts away up the stairs.

    She hates their arrival but this time the tears are far too heady, and their carriages flume down her cheeks by the time she’s at her usual seat by the window. But it’s okay, there are no customers up here to see me. Ella always cries silently, and in brief episodes. And when she’s stopped, she takes her horror book and goes back to her page from yesterday. Gore and a vacant story will save her yet. And Ella doesn’t think to look out the window again, waiting to see when Logan leaves the café.

    4th March 2017